Percy Jackson Gay Ships

Prey

Prompt by me because I was stupid and forgot to put the challenge in when the oneshot was first published.

Percy, an animal of prey, seems to think that he's a predator. Why else would he have a back full of potential weapons?

Percy was a predator; plain and simple.

Percy was a predator, so he didn't understand why all of the bigger, meaner animals simply laughed at him when he raised his quills at them.

He had literal spikes on his back. He was scary, people should be scared of him. Didn't they realise getting impaled by a spike would hurt? Percy could shoot them, he would do it.

(Soon, Percy might realise he actually can't do that. Hopefully before the need to arises.)

Percy was a predator; why did no one understand that.

---

For the past week or so, Percy has been having to deal with a lot of pesky owls. None of them seem to understand that Percy is the top dog (hedgehog) of this forest. He thinks it's about time they learn to back off.

He let's out a little squeaky snort as he hears a loud squawk from behind him. She does not sound happy.

She might not be, but Percy's currently the happiest he's ever been.

---

Percy freezes as he hears a low hoot from somewhere above him. Before it even quietens, he can already feel himself curling up. Up into the funny little ball that he just is sometimes.

The next hoot sounds arguably a lot angrier. He has to hold himself back from making his cheeky little smirk.

One of us will get you. Soon. He hears.

This time, he can't keep the corner of his mouth tilting up and he laughs a tinny cackle.

Mhm, okay; I believe you, he thinks.

(He does not believe him. Not one bit.)

---

Percy stops where he is, fortunately covered by a large pile of leaves. His tiny breaths pause briefly as he assesses the situation.

This time, there's more than one voice. He strains his ears, trying to work out how many of them there are by the different changes in voice.

Okay, so there's three, no wait, there's four. There's four. I can deal with that.

He hears claws scratch against some tree bark, hears their taunting insults. Still, he refuses to let himself panic.

Predators don't panic. He repeats, the fifth time tonight.

Why is he so weak lately?

He lies there for what feels like well over three hours but is probably just barely one.

Conveniently, his patience is higher than their tolerance for each other. He hears two of them begin to burst out in verbal assault at each other.

The third simply ignores them, presumably focusing harder on Percy, but the fourth grows antsy at their arguing and attempts to break them up.

Guys, please, that's enough.

Percy snickers when they're pointedly ignored.

Come on, not no-

They stop as the arguing turns physical, too scared to even blink let alone stop them. What if one of them falls? Just like their poor old grandpa.

The third owl hisses out a shush, only just showing how fed up they obviously were.

Percy hears them stop, then the flutter of wings reaches his ears. The only thing stopping him from falling is the fact that the sound is slowly decreasing. (Meaning they're finally flying away.)

Percy breathes a sligh of relief, and, too high on another victory, he let's his ego get to him and steps out from under his wonderful shelter of leaves.

A good foot away from his shelter, he realises what he did wrong.

He didn't count how many sets of beating wings there really was.

Now if Percy was lucky, that wouldn't matter, they'd have all left.

Except, Percy wasn't lucky. Right now, he was feeling especially unlucky.

The third one was still resting up on the tree branch, wings spread wide as it prepared to launch down at him.

Maybe Percy wasn't a predator.

Challenge: Friendship.